Under The Black Banner
by Baralach
Summary: Maru, young captain of Khad, sets out on a quest for personal revenge and the victory of his people. --- sorry, this one has sorta been abandoned--- if someone can help me get over this writer's block, R&R, please.


Under the Black Banner 

Summary:

A young captain of the Khand departs on a quest to infiltrate the city of Minas Tirith and the leigions of the aging King of Gondor. Armed with elvish blades, quick wit, and an ammusing sence of humor, Maru goes out to bring victory to his country and to avenge the death of his father who was killed in the battle on the Pelennor Fields.

Disclaimer:

I do not own LotRs; I only claim that which you don't recognize.

Soeq was a warrior. 

A great warrior, and a great man, he was.

But of all the things said about Soeq, such as his prowress with arms and mastery of the art of stealth and magic, no one ever said he was a great father.

But to Maru, he was.

To Maru the great man known as Soeq was just a large, happy, playfull, and doting father who brought him presents when he returned from campaigns, taught him to box and ride a horse, and to wield a bow.

On Maru's tenth birthday, an important day for boys of this age, his father gave him a gift that made all his friends, young and old, sigh with envy. Twin strait blades made of a white coloured metal with dark green handles. Strange words in a strange language were etched on the blades; his father said they were in Quenya, high elvish speek.

These blades, he had said, would cut through any armour lesser than the precious mithril itself.

These blades Maru treasured and into battles he wore them in his later life after the death of his beloved father at the hands of the barbaric northern men of Gondor and Rohan.

Over those blades he wept when he learned of his fathers murder, and over those elvish blades he made an oath to avenge the blood of his father and the blood of all his kin that fell to northern bows and blades.

Yes, he promiced, he would make them all pay…

"Captain, the north men have finnished off the last of the orc army and the accursed elves have wiped out the Haradrim up to the eastern borders of their lands," the yellow eyed lieutenant pointed his dagger to various places on the large map pinned to the table top, "and the westmen have rebuilt their white city. Their King has moved them and roused their courage, but they have lost many warriors. They are ripe to fall."

Maru smiled grimly, "But their white walls are thick and their mithril gates strong. I deem that the only way to crumble the battlements is from within… spies we must send in and agents to infiltrate into their ranks and soften their defences."

Simmar, Maru's cousin and fellow captain, nodded in agreement, "rouse all those that have the northern look about them, we must send the west men a message that they cannot ignore."

The lieutenant saluted and quickly exited the tent leaving the cousins and best friends together looking at the map.

"Simmar, if we send agents we must be able to assure that they will not defect and give away our positions. We must send someone we trust with them."

The red robed man nodded, "Yes, cousin, I agree, and I have already given thought as to who must go with them."

Maru raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Simmar, "And who might that be?"

Simmar smiled at his blond haired and light skinned cousin, "someone that may pass for a northerner, or one of the barbarians of the Rohirrim… someone such as, oh I don't know… you."

The two old friends grinned at each other and Maru laughed inspite of the grim circumstances. Simmar patted him on the back with assurances that he could hold down the fort all by himself.

"After all," Simmar added teasingly, "I am two weeks older than you and twice as mature."

The lieutenant and seven other men walked in on the two captains laughing and shovinging each other playfully.

"Ahem!"

Both captains immediately became as grim as orcs and stared unammusedly at the newcomers who tried desperatly to looks as calm and cool as the yellow-eyed lieutenant.

"My lord, these are the men that fit your requirements. They are Darthun of Rimtas, Maerq of Saimms, Avan and Davar of Rivyan, Willim of Uthan, Jornan of Gisell, and the youngest here is Soeqal of Shamar."

As their names were called the men stepped foreward and saluted. 

Maru could see that, indeed, they were all tall and fair of hair, skin, and eye, like the north and west men of Gondor and Rohan.

The last man called, though truly he seemed more of a boy, looked startlingly a lot like Maru's father and bore a name of close kind. He eyed this boy warily.

"You, boy, how did you get into the legions at such a young age?" Simmar asked Soeqal.

The youth blushed but squared his shoulders and looked the imposing captain strait in the eye, a trait that both men respected.

"I was better than men older than myself," he said squarely.

Maru saw the shade of ammusement in Simmar's eyes and the corners of his mouth twitched. Simmar coughed and gave his cousin a look that said it all, 'I like this one.'

Maru nodded and repressed a grin himself, "Were you now? And how is your skill at the moment?"

The lieutenant, knowing where this was going, drew their attention with a cough and pointed to a post at the edge of camp that could be seen through the open tent flaps.

"Soeqal, hit that post two fingers down from the top," the yellow-eyed man ordered.

With the quickness of a cat, the youth drew a long arrow, fitted it, and let it fly.

They heard the thunk as it burried itself into the post and Simmar strode from the tent to the post, Maru and Soeqal close behind.  Sure enough, the shaft was exactly two fingers below the top and had gone at least five fingers in. 

Maru pulled the arrow out with some difficulty and glared at the boy when the head came off the shaft. He held it up to Soeqal with a raised brow and the youth grinned, pulling out another arrow for the captains to see. 

Deadly barbs pointed back so that, if one tried to pull it out of a wound, only more damage would be done and cause most horrible pain to the unlucky one on the recieveing end of the arrow.

Simmar snorted, though Maru could tell he now thought greatly of this young one, and shook a finger at the youth, "that's a mighty fine trick, but you have now wasted and lost a perfectly good arrow head."

Maru laughed, "I must agree, captain, on your scolding, but now is not the proper time, hm? Perhaps we should enlighten these men about why they have merrited an invitation to our battle tent?"

Simmar smiled slowly, "I suppose, captain, I suppose."

************************************************************************

Simmar sighed as his cousin donned the brown, grey, and green colours and strange northern mail shirt and settled a long black cloak and hood over his shoulders.

"Sad as it may seem to see you in such colours," he handed Maru the northern made sword they had found in the spoils cavern, "they go wear well on you with your blonde hair and grey eyes. Where you got that blood from, the gods only know! Your father was a red beard and had blue eyes, which is odd itself, and your mother, bless her soul, was as dark as orcs blood, if you take no offence the the comparison."

Maru snorted, "Hardly. I take after my uncle Tenkorl; my mother's father was a westman, supposedly. I guess that is why, so blame it on him for my strange looks."

"Strange, cousin? More like hanious, or terrifying, might I say," Simmar chortled.

With a last grunt, Maru strung his blades, bow, and quivver over his shoulders and hopped once to settle them into place. With expert skill and speed, he drew his blades and cut through a post, slicing a chunk out of it. Unfortunately for them, this post was nessecary to holding the tent up and it fell with a groan ontop of the two men.

They heard shouts of alarm and laughter as men came running to help the two laughing captains out of the ruins of their war tent.

"Sirs," the lieutenant scolded them like disobediant children, "you need to grow up and quit goofing around. Look at this mess," he jabbed a finger at the mess of tarps, poles and papers, "who is going to clean this up?"

Simmar, gasping for air, was the first to answer, "well… you, I suppose."

The yellow-eyed man growled something that sounded like some very dramatic curses, and Maru shook a finger at him while attempting to sheath his blades.

"Watch your tounge mister toilet mouth, there are young'uns about."

At this all three officers snickered and the lieutenant shook his head.

"I suppose this means you are ready to go, sir?"

Maru nodded emphaticly, "Aye, it does, lieutenant. Are the others prepared, too?"

A noise behind him made him turn and the seven men stood waiting in their western costumes, horse reins in hand.

Soeqal came forward with a smile and passed the captain the reins to a tall grey horse, "This is Noakes, and he'll be your mount, captain."

Maru took the reins gratefully and petted the soft nose of the stallion, "_Alaho _Noakes_, ewi ti efendi roqu_?" he whispered softly.

The grey replied with a low whinney and licked his hand.                                         

Maru smiled.

Long ago his father had taught him to treat a horse, any horse, like a son. He had not forgotten any of Soeq's lessons, and he was a great lover of horses.

Looking up from Noakes and his memories, Maru patted his cousin's shoulder and they embrassed. 

"_Yiq ti arcesell, _Maru," Simmar ordered him in an emotional but quiet tone.

Maru saluted with a sad smile, "_Whet yiq ti arcessel jij_."

With that Maru swung up into the saddle, motioning for the others to mount, and together the eight cloked men made northwest and into the wildernes.

_Alaho Noakes, ewi ti efendi roqu? – Hello Noakes, will we be good friends?_

_Yiq ti arcesell, Maru – You be carefull, Maru_

Whet yiq ti arcessel jij – And you be carefull too 


End file.
